I do not own Dirty Dancing.

Prologue


That was the Summer of 1963. Before Mambo became Salsa, before the Rolling Stones hit the charts. When I was still a Dance Instructor at Kellerman's, and I didn't think I'd amount to be anything else. That was the Summer that I met Baby.

She would always be Baby to me- from the second we met it was Baby, then a name that fit her perfectly in my eyes, seeing only a shy, naive girl untouched by the world's cruelty, who couldn't dance and never would. I only ever called her Frances when I needed her to know how serious I was. I never once called her Fran or Franny, and only Miss Houseman when I was very serious or kidding around. As I fell in love with her, Baby outgrew the name Baby in the terms I thought of it in. And so, with no other name to call her by, 'Baby' came to represent the woman I loved, a brilliant, gorgeous, talented woman, not exactly a Name, not exactly a term of endearment, but so much more than either ever could be.